SUSAN CALMAN

A huge welcome to our brilliant new columnist, who this month is on a superhero’s quest for eternal youth

Our brilliant new columnist

Iknow I shouldn’t be surprised by this, apparently it’s what happens to normal human beings, but it’s still something I wasn’t quite expecting. I distinctly remember sitting in the living room as a teenager, looking at my parents (who were in their early 40s at the time) and thinking that I would never, ever become as old, wizened or ancient as them. Now I’m in my early 40s and I realise, not for the first time, that teenage me was quite the idiot.

In some ways, I don’t mind getting older. I feel less pressure to conform – there are fewer requirements to behave appropriately and I certainly don’t feel the need to get dressed up to leave the house any more. And I’m somewhat fortunate in that I have a fairly youthful appearance, probably due to living in Glasgow where exposure to the sun is limited. And, when one stands at 4ft 11in, people often think I’m far younger than I actually am. Not that long ago I went to get on the Subway and the man at the ticket counter asked if I wanted a child’s fare.

But I also work in television, and I understand that the older I get, the more the young people in charge of commissioning programmes look at me the same way I looked at my poor parents. Will viewers cope with my visible decay? I’d hate TV watchers in their 20s to be sick on themselves at the sight of a middle-aged woman talking.

But how does one fight the inevitable? Can the passing of time be halted, or at least held back for a while, with something like a genetic Thames Barrier? To find out, I did what I always do in these situations: I searched the internet. The information superhighway has an answer to almost any question. Indeed, a quick look at my Google history reveals such questions as ‘Can I buy a fully functioning Batman outfit?’ (The answer is yes.)

It was with some amusement that I stumbled across a study claiming 30 minutes of facial exercises a day could knock years off my appearance. Face yoga involves wiggling your visage to stimulate collagen production and exercise the muscles in the face. I’m willing to give anything a go, so I tried said face yoga only to quickly realise there is a time and a place for such matters. I’ll admit I tried it on the train and so felt more than a bit constrained by the glares from my fellow passengers (apologies again to Virgin Trains for the fear and alarm caused). I also realised that, like any form of exercise, you have to stick at it. One slight raise of the eyebrow isn’t going to turn me into Taylor Swift.

Other apparent remedies that I found seemed even less attractive. Snail slime injected into the face sounds like something from a Roald Dahl book. Drinking more red wine, while enjoyable, isn’t really a long-term solution. And there is no way I’m using bull semen, bird poop, placenta of various types, leeches or bee venom in any context.

The last straw was the suggestion of trying out cryotherapy, a process that involves standing in a freezing cupboard for a while – which simply sounds like going back to one of the student flats I rented in the 1990s.

After a great deal of time researching the cure for ageing, I realised that the best remedy for getting older is simply to embrace it. To backcomb my grey hairs and highlight my laughter lines. My parents are now in their 70s and still look fabulous. So, instead of face yoga, I decided to sit back and embrace my ageing body. In fact, I tried to buy some red wine to drink in celebration of my new attitude, but sadly I couldn’t see over the counter at the off licence. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to google ‘stilts for adults’. I think they’ll help me carry off the Batman outfit.

There’s no way I’m using BULL SEMEN, BIRD POOP, PLACENTA of various types, LEECHES or BEE VENOM